Sinful Like Us (Like Us 5)

I lower the clipboard to my belly. “You should take a seat.”

He goes rigid. “What happened?”

Farrow leaves the door and joins Maximoff. He clasps his hand.

Moffy lets out a breath, but his shoulders never loosen. His attention is on me, waiting.

“It’s not so terrible,” I tell him. “Really, it’s not.”

He blinks. “Is it about your brothers?”

“No.”

“My brother?” He points to his chest.

I pause. “Not quite.”

He stiffens. “My sisters?”

“Sister,” I correct.

“Luna?”

I nod.

Farrow runs his thumb over his lip piercing. “You said this happened again, so that means you walked in on Luna having sex?”

Maximoff cringes. “Christ.”

“Yes.” I hug my clipboard. “It was as unlucky and unfortunate as walking in on you two.”

“But you didn’t tell me when it happened,” Maximoff realizes. “Why?”

“Luna asked me not to, and I promised her.”

Farrow processes fast and tells Moffy, “Your sister thought you’d be pissed.”

“Oui.”

Maximoff fixates on the wall in deep contemplation. “I already know she’s having sex, and I’d never shame her for that. I just want her to be safe, so I really don’t get why she thinks I’d overreact.” His eyes hit mine with pure brotherly protectiveness. “Did the guy hurt her? Is she okay?” He’s already storming towards the door.

I’m suddenly very thankful we’re locked in this room.

Farrow sprints in front and blocks him, a hand to his chest. “Wolf scout, let’s hear Jane out before we go on a fictional manhunt.”

He glares. “If someone hurt my little sister, it’s not going to be a fucking fictional manhunt. I’m going to kill him with a switchblade laced in arsenic.”

I try not to smile. My best friend has murderous hyperboles that my mom would applaud in a heartbeat.

“You don’t even know why you’d be committing murder,” Farrow says matter-of-factly. “Or who you’re supposed to be killing.”

“She’s fine. Really, really fine,” I emphasize. “She enjoyed the moment greatly. It was completely consensual.”

Maximoff tries to relax, his hand sliding back in Farrow’s hand. “Who was it? What’d they do?” His tone is sharp, so it sounds like he’s asking for a culprit and a motive.

I take one breath.

And I say just it. “I walked in on Paul Donnelly giving Luna great head—the great was her assessment, though from my vantage it did look very pleasing…” I trail off, so sweltering hot that I can barely think straight.

Farrow’s jaw has dropped. Shock slowly washes over his face, and he swings his head to me. “Donnelly?”

“Yes.”

Maximoff lets go of his hand, just to set his palms on his head. Like he’s winded and attempting to catch his breath. He spins to Farrow. “You told me not to worry about him.”

“It was consensual,” I remind them. “Luna asked Donnelly to go down on her.”

They’re both staring at me like I’m speaking an entirely different language.

“It was for science,” I add, unhelpfully. “She enjoyed it.” Yes, stick to this point.

Maximoff’s glower intensifies.

I give him a disapproving look. “Not that it matters. At all apparently.”

He groans, frustrated. “That matters. That’s not why I’m glaring.” He rakes his hands through his thick dark-brown hair, then lowers his arms to his side. “Are you sure it was Donnelly?”

“Positive.”

“You’re sure it was consensual?”

“Yes. No doubt.”

Farrow leans casually on the antique dresser. “Shit, how much did you see?”

“Far too much.”

“When?” Maximoff asks.

I explain the entire ordeal. Every little detail of how I went to find a condom and instead walked in on Luna and Donnelly, and somehow this explanation is the easiest and breeziest compared to everything else tonight.

By the end, Thatcher has returned and begun unscrewing the hinges. I’ve expected Maximoff to be upset, so I’m not surprised when he charges for the door.

Farrow catches his arm. “Where are you going?”

“To have a tea party with a bodyguard, who apparently decided to play Bill Nye the fucking Science Guy with my sister.”

I whisper to the door. “Thatcher?”

“Yeah?”

“Work slowly.”

“Copy that.” He understands that it’s better if Maximoff does not confront Donnelly right now.

“The door is jammed,” Farrow tells him. “You’re not going anywhere, so just relax, relax.” He cups his jaw.

His eyes are reddened. “I’m totally relaxed.” His Adam’s apple bobs. “More relaxed than you.”

“Keep trying because you’re not even close yet.”

“Yeah?” He holds onto Farrow’s waist. “I feel pretty goddamn Zen.”

I smile, but my lips fall as Maximoff hangs his head and pinches his raw eyes.

“Donnelly was doing what Luna asked,” I remind him.

He winces, looking up again. “Are we really going to justify this?” He turns to me. “She was eighteen.”

Farrow tosses his head from side to side. “Technically, she was about to be nineteen in a couple weeks.”

Maximoff glares. “Donnelly could’ve said no. You told me I could trust him with her.”

“And you still can—”

“He went down on her!” Maximoff yells and looks between us. “Am I living in the Twilight Zone? Why are you two okay with this?” Hurt pulses in his eyes, and he puts his hands on top of his head again, distressed.

I step forward. “Because Luna is an adult and she asked him.”

Maximoff is stone, staring painfully at the ceiling.

Farrow stands off the dresser and nears him. “Donnelly is good people. I know he has some rough edges, but he’d never hurt Luna. I’d swear on my life to that.”

“Would you swear on mine?” Maximoff asks.

He runs his tongue over his molars. “No. But not because I don’t trust Donnelly.” He loves Moffy terribly so, and he’s the type of person who’d never put his love in harm’s way, even at the sake of making a point.

Maximoff crouches, forearms on his knees. His adrenaline must be pumping. He looks up at me. “He’s eight years older than her, Janie.”

“I know,” I say softly. “But Aunt Daisy and Uncle Ryke have a seven-year age difference. It’s not so different.”

His gaze darkens at the floor. “Do you know how much shit they got for that? The media eviscerated them. My little sister gets piled on every damn day, and I keep thinking about how more people are going to shit on her. She just left high school bullies behind.” He slowly rises to try to be at height with Farrow. He rotates to him. “I know I sound like a fucking hypocrite. This is exactly why my dad didn’t want me to date you. He wanted easy for me, and dating a bodyguard was light-years from that.”

My eyes soften. “Relationships were never going to be easy,” I remind him. “For any of us.”

Maximoff ponders this.

“Also to note,” I say aloud. “Media has been speculating that she’s with Quinn.” They’ve paired all of SFO with their clients. “So it’s not as though they’ll shit on her for dating a bodyguard.”

“Quinn is around her age,” Maximoff rebuts. “Donnelly isn’t.”

Farrow says, “Luna is strong as hell.”

Maximoff almost eases. “Yeah. I know she is. But I’m not the brother I want to be if I don’t give the third-degree to every guy that wants in her pants.”

“Every guy?” Farrow whistles. “Man, you have some catching up to do.”

“Pretty sure only one guy wants in her pants and he’s downstairs.”

“You?

?re definitely off.”

“No.”

He raises his brows. “Pretty sure thousands of guys want in Luna Hale’s pants.”

He blinks slowly into a glare. “Thank you for that visual.”

His lips rise. “Happy to provide.”

Maximoff growls away an emerging smile and looks to the locked door. “Is that open yet? Donnelly is due for a third-degree.”

“Soon,” I tell him.

“He can handle whatever you give him,” Farrow says. “I’m more concerned about what happens when your dad finds out.”

Maximoff shakes his head. “That can’t happen.”